And Yet Again
by Bad Faery
Summary: Missing scenes from "And Again." Each chapter stands alone, and all fit into the the main narrative.
1. The Sins of Onan

_Joseph knows he is doomed to burn for far worse sins than onanism.  
_

In the grand scheme of things, onanism barely counted as a sin. MacAvoy doubted there was a man alive who hadn't succumbed at one time or another, and if there was, he'd forward the name to Rome for consideration for canonization. Anyone who could do that would surely have two other miracles hidden somewhere. Even he, who rarely thought of women in anything but intellectual terms, occasionally had urges which were best dealt with quickly lest they distract from more important matters. Since he'd started drinking, those urges had become very rare indeed.

Even when he stopped drinking, they didn't return until the night he'd shared a pillow with Belle, rejoicing in the feeling of her breath on his face and longing to be closer, closer, _closer_ to his angel, and he was suddenly dealing with far more than vague urges. What had once been a biological impulse had taken on a far more emotional component. MacAvoy didn't want release; he wanted Belle's body against him, her lips under his, her sweet voice in his ear telling him that she was happy with him. He wanted to lose himself in her, to be one with his angel, however briefly.

Very cold showers, he'd found, were a satisfactory solution. He would stand under the frigid water and pray for forgiveness and the strength to protect Belle from his lust until the urge was conquered, and he could face her again with innocent eyes. Had she not tried to leave, he could have gone on happily thus.

But Belle did try to leave him, and he'd lost his mind, crushing his mouth to hers in desperation, and suddenly his urges had a sharp new focus. Instead of reflecting on her beauty or how nice it would be to hold her in his arms, he now _knew_ what her lips tasted like. He knew how soft and warm and sweet they were, and he longed to taste them again every moment of every day. He longed to know what other parts of her would taste like and how her lips would feel against other places on his body, and cold water was no longer a solution to his problem.

MacAvoy knew he was doomed to spending most of his afterlife in Purgatory at best, somewhere far hotter at worst, but he wouldn't burn for onanism. It was the sins that went along with it that would damn him. His thoughts had never been less pure, Satan constantly whispering in his ear all the things he could do to his angel, reminding him that he had hands he could use to touch and stroke and caress her, lips that could kiss her and whisper every filthy desire he had, a cock that had been made to pleasure her. The thought of Belle breathless with pleasure because of something he'd done was enough to drive him mad.

Worse was the covetousness, the resentment he felt at knowing he was not the first man in Belle's life. She'd had a husband and then a fiancee, men who she loved, men who were permitted to hold and touch and kiss her, everything that he would never be allowed to do. Belle was not a possession, not something to be owned, but a dark part of him wanted desperately for her to be his.

In his waking dreams he could see Belle wrapped in the arms of a man who was not him although they shared a face. Her bare body pressed full-length against his as she kissed and clung to him, letting him plunder her sweetness, his hands roaming every inch of her. She sighed and moaned, arching into him, letting him touch her everywhere as she caressed him in return, whispering her love for him.

The jealousy nearly blinded him even as his body responded, and he couldn't get the images out of his head. Reaching out, he turned the faucet down as far as it went, hoping the icy water coursing over him would cool his lust. What wouldn't he give to be in that man's place, to have Belle in his arms, soft and sweet and _willing_? It would be worth the sin, worth the betrayal of his vows to have his angel so close.

The cold water was doing nothing to slake his lust, and he nudged the temperature higher, clenching his teeth as he took himself in hand. He'd never allowed himself to think about Belle when he did this, but he was too weak to fight it any longer. What would she say if she could see him like this? What would she say if she walked into the bathroom right now to see him with his cock in his hand and her name on his lips?

"Belle..." he whimpered, imagining her blue eyes upon him, "Forgive me."

"If you were sorry, you'd stop," Belle told him calmly, leaning against the wall of the shower, and he thrust sharply into his hand, overwhelmed by her mere presence.

"I _can't_," he ground out, his grasp on language slipping away as he fondled himself, his strokes rough, "You're so beautiful. So perfect. Belle, I _need_ you. I need my angel. _Please_."

She would deny him, of course she would. Belle was too pure to sin with him. She'd never allow him to put his filthy, unworthy hands on her. "Please," he begged again, almost sobbing with need, and she stepped into the spray with him, the water somehow not touching her as she moved to stand in front of him.

Her lips were softly parted, and he leaned forward helplessly, needing to capture them with his own. Belle's mouth was Heaven, and nothing but her lips could soothe him now. Her lips and the touch of her hand. His cock throbbed at the mere thought that Belle could touch him, and he whimpered, thrusting his hips forward shamelessly. His angel had the power to cure his sinful nature. Just one touch from her hand, the merest brush of her fingers over his aching flesh would be enough to satisfy him eternally. If she'd just touch him, all the lust would pour from his soul, leaving him clean and pure, like her.

Blindly he searched for her mouth, moaning in agony when he couldn't find it. "Please!" he whimpered pathetically, "Kiss... touch... let me touch you..." To bring her pleasure would be the greatest gift he could ever receive, but Belle shook her head.

"Lust is a sin," she breathed, her eyes sympathetic.

"Not lust," he groaned. Nothing they did together could be called lust. Nothing they did together could be sin. "Not lust. _Love_."

Both hands were on his cock now as he thrust frantically, so close to his release that he was seeing stars. "Please, please, please, love, please," he panted, needing her touch to push him over the edge.

"Love," she echoed with a sweet smile, then her fingers glanced over the head of his cock, and it was enough, more than enough. He'd never come so hard, the pleasure reverberating from the tips of his toes to the crown of his head as he made noises like a dying animal, his seed spurting over his hands in endless pulses as Belle gazed at him lovingly.

"Joseph?" Belle's voice came from directly outside the bathroom door, and he blinked his eyes open, his fantasy dissolving, "Did you call me?"

"_Fuck_!" he hissed, searching desperately for a reason he would have been calling her name while he was in the shower. He cleared his throat, struggling to sound like he hadn't just been wanking furiously to thoughts of her, "Uh, yes. Could you put shaving foam on the grocery list?"

"Sure," Belle chirped, and if she thought it odd he'd needed to tell her that immediately instead of waiting until he was done in the bath, she didn't say anything. "Anything else?"

'And then could you join me?' The words were on the tip of his tongue, and he swallowed them down. "No, that's it."

He strained his ears to hear her moving away and released his hold on his cock, grunting as the spray struck his sensitive flesh. He would burn for this, and if there was the slightest hope his fantasy could ever come true, he wouldn't even care. If only there was.

Standing under the rapidly cooling spray, MacAvoy crossed himself. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned..." Although he spoke to God, it was a pair of blue eyes that he longed to see mercy in.


	2. An Earnest Prayer

_Belle accidentally eavesdrops on Joseph's prayers._

It never occurred to her that he didn't realize she was there. As a general rule, Belle cleaned the church every Tuesday and Saturday after Mass, but there had been two baptisms yesterday, and she'd gotten hopelessly behind, deciding to save the work for the morning instead. She'd just ducked into the storage room to change out the candles when she heard him talking, and assuming he was talking to her, she'd listened in.

"…for Thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen." she heard and smiled tenderly, realizing he was talking to his god and not to her. She stayed where she was to give him privacy, trying not to eavesdrop until she heard her own name being spoken.

"Thank You for my Belle. Thank You for my angel. Please give us Your blessing. Let me give her a child. Let me make her happy." Her throat tightened at his request, and she was relieved that he really did think what they were doing was not a sin. He'd dismissed his vows, but she'd worried about them.

"Father, please let me keep her. Let us find a way that she can stay. Please don't take her away from me." The desperation in his voice tore at her heart, and tears flooded her eyes, as he begged for a way they could remain together. "_Please_ let me keep her. I _need_ her. Father, she is my life. I cannot let her go. I'll do anything for her, just please. _Please_."

In that moment, Belle would have done anything in her power to grant his request. She would stay with him forever, and they'd have their child and more happiness than she'd ever expected to find again. And then her curse would kill him.

"Father, forgive me for my weakness. Forgive me for my greed. Help me be strong. Help me do what's right for her. Thank You for my Belle. Please help me be worthy of her." Worthy? Oh Joseph. How could he think himself unworthy when he was everything that was good and kind in the world?

She'd never meant for this to happen, never meant to love him, never meant for him to love her in return, and now there was no way out. The last thing she wanted to do was break his heart, but she could not risk his life by staying. Curling her legs beneath her, she sat down on the stone floor and waited for him to finish his prayers, wishing she had someone she could call on for help the way he appealed to his god.

Looking upward, she licked her lips and tried, "Nick? What do I do?"

There was no answer to her question, just a faint sensation of warmth, and for a moment she could almost feel arms around her.


	3. Through Glass

_Joseph notices a store he's never paid attention to before.  
_

He'd never noticed the small shop before, but suddenly it was the only thing on the street that he could see. The front window was painted with nursery rhyme characters, framing a beautiful wooden crib that would look just right in the guest room. They could paint a mural on the walls, some kind of fairytale scene that would suit either a girl or a boy.

Beyond the crib, he could see racks and racks of clothing- tiny and fluffy and precious. More than anything, he wanted to walk in, wanted to explore the wares, handle the tiny outfits and try to picture the baby that would wear them. He could almost see it, all chestnut curls and big blue eyes and chubby pink cheeks, a miniature replica of its mother, and the image made his heart pound in his chest.

He couldn't go in, not dressed like this. It would attract too much attention, so he loitered on the sidewalk, checked his watch, pretended to be waiting, and let his eyes hungrily devour everything he could see inside.

A young couple stood together near the crib, the man's hand resting gently on the woman's swollen belly, her hand on his as they gazed at each other, oblivious to the priest on the other side of the glass who was staring at them. "Please, please," he whispered, folding his hands in front of him, "Father, _please_." That was all he wanted. He wanted that to be him and Belle, together eternally, happy and in love with a baby on the way. He wanted his ring on her finger and hers on his, wanted everyone to know that they belonged to each other, and their baby would complete their perfect little family.

"Father, please," he begged again, "Give us a child. Please let me keep them. Let there be a way."


	4. A Dream of Spring

_Belle daydreams.  
_

Belle smoothed the last wrinkles out of the duvet and retrieved the handful of throw pillows from the floor, arranging them at the head of the bed. She'd bought them several weeks ago in an effort to brighten up the rather monochromatic room, but mostly they just wound up on the floor.

One small, round blue pillow looked positively bedraggled, and she plumped it back up, holding it up for inspection. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror out of the corner of her eye, she realized she was holding it level with her stomach and just for a moment, it looked like…

Giving in to temptation, she slid the pillow beneath her shirt, smoothing the fabric over it, and she was suddenly eight months pregnant. Turning, she admired her profile, trying to imagine what it would feel like to actually carry a child.

A sharp intake of breath made her jump, and her face flushed as she realized Joseph was watching her from the doorway. Before she could remove the pillow, he stumbled forward, his hands trembling as he reached for her. "You look so…" He slid his arm around her waist, his other hand resting on the pillow, fingers splayed possessively as if she really was pregnant and he was laying claim to his child. "You're so beautiful, Belle."

She rested her hand over his and allowed herself to pretend that this was real. Soon it would be. They'd have a baby of their own to adore, and she would be the best mother in the world.


	5. Time Out

_It's not one of their six days, but..._

* * *

It was so hard to remember that he wasn't allowed to touch her. His angel was in his arms, in his bed, and she was so warm and soft and sweet, and he couldn't touch her for another week. So many nights, he'd wake up completely wrapped around her, his hands straying to cup her breasts, his mouth pressed against her throat, his cock throbbing against the curve of her rear. His angel was right there, and he couldn't have her.

Joseph tore himself away with a whimper of agony. The only thing worse than holding her and not being able to do more was not holding her at all. It wasn't sex, had never been sex that he craved. It was Belle. He needed his angel, needed to be pressed against her, needed to kiss and touch and worship her the way she deserved, needed to be inside of her, her precious body welcoming him, making him feel warm and safe and loved. He needed to be _close_ to her.

It wasn't one of their six days though, and he couldn't have what he needed. He should leave their bed, go into the bathroom and take himself in hand, spill his seed to take the edge off the wanting, so he could curl up chastely with his angel and just enjoy having her in his arms. He'd done it so many other nights, but this night he couldn't bring himself to move. He needed to be close to his Belle; he couldn't put more distance between them.

Instead he rolled onto his back, staring blankly up at the ceiling as he willed the desire away, his lips moving in silent prayer, asking forgiveness for his weakness, for the strength to protect his angel from his lust. He closed his eyes in despair as Belle rolled over, murmuring sleepily as she draped herself over his chest, her leg wrapping around his as she cuddled close. She snuggled in, and her knee grazed his straining cock.

Joseph bit his tongue to stifle the sound, but it was too late. His groan made Belle's eyelids flutter, his angel blinking up at him drowsily, "Baby?"

"Go back to sleep," he coaxed, his voice rough, and she just woke up more, shifting against him.

"What's wrong- oh." Her eyes widened as her knee brushed his cock again, and he whimpered in mortification, cursing his body for its crude demand.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "Forgive me, Belle."

"It's okay," she assured him, hugging him close, and that wasn't helping at all. Her breath was warm against his neck, and he was going to lose his mind, balanced on the knife-edge of desire. It was too much and not enough all at the same time, and he couldn't endure this for another moment. He had to either pull her closer or push her away.

He would never be able to push her away.

With desperate strength, he yanked Belle into his arms, burying his face in her hair as he tried to breathe her in, willing the pressure of her body against his to be enough to satisfy him. He couldn't have her, but he could have this, and it had to be enough.

"Baby," Belle murmured, and he looked down at her to see her lips parted and glistening in the moonlight, and he was lost. With a strangled cry, he seized her mouth, gasping in relief when she immediately welcomed him, her tongue stroking against his. Just a kiss. He just needed one kiss, then he'd let her go back to sleep.

His body had other ideas, and before he knew what he was doing, Joseph found himself pushing Belle onto her back, covering her with himself as they moved against each other, his angel shifting so that he was lying between her legs, his cock pressing eagerly against her through two layers of cotton. That made it okay. They weren't really making love; they still had their clothes on. They were just… touching.

With a whine, he pushed against her, barely keeping the presence of mind not to bite her tongue when she wrapped her legs around his hips, keeping him against her. She wanted it too. His angel wanted him too.

He could feel her heat even through their pajama pants, and he'd give anything to be able to strip them off, to bury himself in his angel and be close to her again. He couldn't have that right now, but this was more than he ever dreamed she'd allow him, and he rubbed himself against her frantically, trying to press against the places that she liked.

He couldn't breathe, and he tore his mouth from hers, praying that she wouldn't tell him to stop. Instead, her hands slipped under his tee shirt to caress his back, her neck arching as she rocked her hips against his, the two of them working in tandem to bring each other pleasure. "That's good, baby," she crooned, and he groaned, his mouth finding her neck to plant biting kisses along the elegant column of her throat.

Beneath him, her body was pliant, inviting him closer, and he rubbed harder, desperate to bring her off. She was so wet that he could feel it even through their layers, and he was so close that he was shaking, but his angel was making beautiful, broken little sounds, and he never wanted her to stop.

Clinging to his control with his fingernails, he ground against her, hips jerking in short, sharp thrusts. He caught her lips again, muffling his moans as he rubbed, and rubbed, and _rubbed_. She screamed into his mouth, her nails digging into his shoulders, and Joseph gave in, coming in a burst of pleasure so intense it was almost pain, all but pounding her into the mattress as she wrapped her arms around him and held him close, coaxing him through it.

Sated, yet somehow dissatisfied, he rolled off of her, curling himself protectively around her. He needed to change, they both did, but he couldn't bear to let her go. "My sweet baby," she murmured, her fingers carding through his hair, and he moaned in relief at the warmth in her voice. That was what he'd been missing, that was what he needed.

"My angel," he whispered reverently, snuggling her closer yet until he could feel her heart beating. "I love you so much."

Belle didn't say it back, but she pressed a tender kiss to his lips, and Joseph all but purred in contentment, drifting back into blissful sleep.


	6. In Dreams

_Joseph dreams._

* * *

_The soft whimper shouldn't have been enough to wake him, yet it did, his hands finding Belle's side of the bed cold. That was enough to snap him fully out of sleep, and he followed the quiet sounds to what was once Belle's room. It had another purpose now._

_They'd spent weeks painting the nursery with her doing the outlines and him filling in with the colors, doing his best to stay within the lines as he watched his angel like a hawk to be certain she didn't overexert herself. The effect was striking; their son now inhabited a forest glen, his crib surrounded by friendly trees and the occasional neatly-dressed beast._

_The baby seemed less than interested in his magical environment, but Joseph assumed he'd grow into it. For now, nothing existed in the boy's universe except for his mother, and he could certainly relate._

_"Life, to me, is like an apple tree…" Belle sang quietly to the baby, accompanying herself with the creak of the rocking chair, and he peered around the doorframe, his heart clenching at the sight that greeted his eyes. His angel gazed lovingly down at the tiny bundle in her arms, her loose nightgown unbuttoned and pushed to the side so the baby could nurse._

_As though sensing his presence, she glanced up, her blue eyes so filled with love that it took his breath away. Without hesitation, he came to kneel at her side, pressing a soft kiss to her bare breast and another to the baby's head, asking God to bless the pair of them, to keep them always safe and protected._

_The baby suckled hungrily, making little grunting noises, and they both chuckled at the sound, helplessly besotted with the miracle in her arms. Between the two of them, they'd created life, and nothing could ever be more holy than this._

Joseph stirred, his hand striking the wall as he rolled over, and he blinked, trying to figure out where he was. After a moment, he recognized his own familiar bed, and he rolled back over to wrap his arm around Belle, reality cutting through the wonderful dream.

He splayed his hand over her flat stomach to pull her into him, and she snuggled closer. There was no baby, not yet. They'd been trying for months, but he wasn't about to give up. They just had to keep at it. "Father, please help us conceive. Please give us a child," he whispered into the still air. Burying his face in her curls, Joseph prayed for the child they longed for, hoping his dream had been a vision.


End file.
